The Dark Legacy
by MistressPuppetShow
Summary: When the Earl Phantomhive is killed. In his last testimonial will, he proclaims his only legitimate child to be his sole Heir of the Phantomhive estate and title. Cloudia, having no strict idea of how to run her father's estate. Soon realized, the title was Countess wasn't the only thing she has inherited from her father's death. The Dark Legacy of Phantomhive soon comes to light.


**Hello, it's Mistress Puppet Show, and I'm going to be using my theories to try and make this as accurately as possible from what I gathered. And it should be easy since I have my points. All I really have to do is just place my fillers in and sand the rest down smoothly.**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

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 **Prologue**

 **December 16, 1839.  
23:46:08  
London, England**

The cold and bitter night of London were eerily quiet. A lone man with long silver hair, walked the empty streets. He's steps were long and few before he stopped.

Suddenly, the man leaped into the air.

A wave of razor wires whipped and linger where the man once was.

"Found you!" A feminine voice shouts.

The man lands top roof. He glances down at a familiar woman with soft glimmering green-yellow eyes.

"I won't let you escape." She growls.

The man smiles amusingly, and the woman clearly noticed and shown her teeth in anger. "So they sent you. Or did you volunteered?"

"You know very well you can't just leave. It's complete utter desertion!" The woman calls out the man. She flicks her wrists and reflexes her fingers, and immediately the wires raise off the ground and shot forward to the man on the roof.

The man quickly jumps away. He summons Japanese Sobota and threw them directly down at the woman.

The woman stood her ground, dodging some that reached her but destroyed the others.

"It useless, ~ _your highness~._ That won't work on me." The woman mocks.

"Oh, but it did!" The man shouts merrily to the woman below, he quickly jumps elsewhere onto another rooftop and disappeared from the woman's view.

"Shit." The woman cursed herself.

The man hurried away, he leaps from rooftop to rooftop. He pauses briefly upon hearing the wobbles of thin metal and quickly maneuvers himself around smoking chimneys, then jumps down into a small alleyway.

The slicing of iron and breaking clay caught the man's ear, but he didn't stop to look back.

The game of cat and mouse was amusing for the man, but he was getting tired being on the opposite end of the stick.

Just as he leaped in mid-air, the man was surprised when razor wire looped around his throat, chest, and arm. The wires were pulled, throwing him back into a wall. He fell down to the alley, hitting the cobblestone ground with a loud thud. He groans in the slight pain caused to him. Lifting his head to see a woman approach him, her arms reeling in the catch.

"As I said, you won't an escape so easily. Your highness." The woman sneered.

"So it would seem, dearie." The man chuckles.

The woman flinches at the nickname, and tights the wires, cutting into the man's suit and even flesh as blood dripped onto the ground.

"Call me that again, and I won't hesitate to you rip you into pieces." She spat.

"What's wrong, Wilkin? Or do you prefer Lorona." The man says, pushing himself off the ground. He stood firmly, testing the limit of the modify scythe that wraps around him. "I recall you loved it when I called you that. Always fluster and squirming beneath me like naughty reaper you are."

"…bastard…BASTARD!"

Lorona immediately pulled the wire, blinded by rage. She no longer cares or gave a shit about the orders given to her. She wanted to kill him.

The sound of fabric tearing did not frighten the man, nor the pain he was feeling as the wire started to cut into his skin.

"You know the problem of that newly modify scythe of yours." The man question about the weapon.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lorona demanded. She slows the cutting but didn't stop pulling.

"Your wires are only good at keeping the soul or body at bay when you have them secured from a distance." The man explains. "So what would happen if the target closes the distance?"

Suddenly, the man disappeared from Lorona's view. Tugging at the wires. They suddenly because loose. Quickly trying to look around to see where her wire lie. They were invisible on the snowy ground. "Shit."

"This is why I find mods utter annoying." The man's voice said behind him.

Lorona spins around trying to whip her wires into action, but the man grabs hold of the wires and locking them into place in his left hand.

The man then summons another sotoba.

"A wooden stick? That's all you have to carry as a weapon." Lorona smirks, and snickers at the long plank of wood. "You should have planned better. Without your death-scythe, I sure they would have ordered me to kill you instead of capture."

"Is that so?" Suddenly, the sotoba disappears and was replaced with a large scythe. Lorona gasp, realizing the trouble she was in.

Lorona then noticed that the weapon was too large, and they stood in a small alley. If he were to use the blade, it would get stuck in between the buildings. "Ha, your death-scythe is useless here."

"Correct, but I still have the upper-hand." The man declares.

Lorona raised a brow, but soon realize her victory was cut short when the man pulls the sharp wires. She stumbles forwards, unprepared for the sudden tug. Her glasses slip off her nose and fell to the ground.

Disorientated by the loss of vision. She tried to step away but her uneven balance caused her to move forward. A loud crack was heard under her feet, and Lorona cried out in fear. Dropping to her knees, she releases the wires in search of her glasses.

Finding them, she tries raising them up to her eyes and saw many images of the man standing before her. Crawling away with the broken glasses upon her face. The many visions of the man walk towards her.

"Please, don't hurt me." Lorona begs.

"Hurt you?" The man repeats. "No love. I'm not going to hurt you. I would never harm you, ever."

Just as Lorona believe the man's sickly sweet words. He grabs her hairs and tugs her head back. She cried out in pain, but it was cut short when felt his lips cover hers. His tongue twirls and dances with her own. She felt weak and helpless as he kissed her, that she didn't even notice when he wrapped her own death-scythe around her neck.

He pulled back, smiling down at her with those same soft and subtle eyes. They always enchanted her, the same with his silvery moonlight hair.

" _Prince~"_ She tries sighing, but she suddenly begins to choke as the wire around her neck began to tighten. Her eyes widen, still staring into the same eyes that never changed as it chokes the life out of her.

"But I can't have anyone knowing I still have my old friend with me." The man said calmly.

The wires around Lorona neck began cutting into her skin. Blood weeps down her cheek and nose as her eyes began to pop out from the pressure building.

"Don't worry, I will make sure your lasts moment are memorial." The man promise. Holding up his death-scythe in his other hand. He stabs the blade within her neck, watching the cinematic records play before both their eyes. When the recorded ended. The man tugged Lorona's wires until finally, her head fell from her shoulders. He then watched as her body began to wither and burn away into ashes.

Transfiguring his death-scythe back into its hidden form. The man turns away, leaving the ashes of his ex-lover behind. He did not run like he didn't before, as the Higher-ups sent only one person.

The strange man got as far as London's Bridge. He walked across the bridge, calmly admiring the snowflakes that began to fall. He stops and looks out to the harbor. Maybe, he can take a ship to the new world and escape the Higher-ups and probably even _him_.

"How disappointing," A deep and old voice sighs.

The man wide eyes, looking over his shoulder. A black cloak figure sat atop a pale horse that was surround by mist. Their face was covered by a black hood, but the man knew who was hiding beneath the mystery.

"And here I hoped to hand the mantle over to you someday." The figure spoke. "It's been three millennium since I welcomed you into this world. And this is how you repay me?"

"Welcome? That's not how I remember it, _Pops_ '" The man said, bitterly using the nickname given to the cloaked figure.

"All fate lies within the currents of Causality. Prince of Cruelty." The figures address the man.

"Fate? Causality? I don't regret losing that game a long time ago, O Lord Death. In fact, I'm starting to find the meaning of death every interesting." The man acquaints of their past dealings.

"Oh, how so?" The cloaked figure inquiries.

"It's a secret." The man replies, raising a finger to his lips. The cloaks said nothing. The man smiles but knows very well his was in deep trouble. For a moment seem to pass. The rider atop the horse, sighs, releasing a warm breath on the cold air.

"Oh, unfortunate." The cloaks figure sighs. Beneath the black cloak, a hand reached out, summoning gold and long ebony death-scythe. Chains rattle from the golden tailbone and a clear passage etched onto the black blade, read " _For the Wages of Sin is Death_ ".

Without a second thought, the man tried to dash away as quickly as he could, but the blade of the scythe passed in front of him. He stopped to see the figure pull the extend chains back. Leaping into the air, dodging the returning death-scythe, he lands atop the bridge.

Summoning and throwing four Sotoba. The horse gallops away, taking the cloaked figure with them.

The man searched where the horse and its rider when to, but the mist the horse created was far too thick to see anything. Suddenly, he heard the horse cries from behind him. The rider and their horse, gallops through the air, coming head-on towards the man. Throwing more sotoba. The rider easily cuts and sliced the wood. There was no choice, but to reveal and use his own death-scythe since he couldn't outrun or hide from the pale horse. The cursed creature was no different from a dog.

Just as the man was about to pull out the fake sotoba. The cloaked figure jumped from his horse.

The man already knew where the old man was about to appear, but it was already too late.

Turning around. The man foolishly drops the fake sotoba when a hand grabs him by the throat. He listens to the sotoba fall and land in the unfrozen waters below.

High atop of the bridge. A cold gust of wind blew heavily against them, the hood of the cloak draws back, revealing the face of the man beneath.

"So, what now Pops? Are you going to send me back home and tell me how foolish and childish I was for my action?" The man chuckles.

"No."

The man smile disappeared. He looked back at the older man.

"If you wanted to leave, all you have to do is ask." The old man said. Letting go of the man's neck, he grabs the collar of the man's shirt and throws the man off the bridge.

The man watched as the ebony blade came down upon him. The man felt the pain as it tears into his top of his left temple, all the way down to his right jaw. His vision blur as his glasses fell apart. He could not see the old man as he plummets into the freezing waters. He couldn't even see the surface of the water as he falls deeper into the black abyss of the harbor.

"When you lose sight within the world of the living, and having no regards to your own self-demise. You shall also lose sight among the dead. Let's see how long you will last? Prince of Cruelty."

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 **So yeah. Here my origins story of how Undertaker got rid of his glasses or in this case lost them to his mentor/master. If you want to know who the old man was under the cloak. I hinted the nickname** ** _"Pops"_** **.**

 **Get it?**

 **Okay, fine, if you didn't get it.**

 **It's the non-canon character from the anime, Lawrence Anderson, aka 'Pops' The Master Craftsmen who makes all glasses and spectacles for all Grim Reapers sight like forever.**

 **Still, don't understand?**

 **Well, like I argue about the name Cedric because it originated in 1918. The name "Lawrence" originated in Greece somewhere in the 16** **th** **century. I'm not sure about Anderson, but just roll with me on this all right?**

 **Anyhow, my idea for Lawrence is that he's Lord Death himself. Only retired, and started to make glasses from now on instead of collection soul since the guy has plenty of servants and underlings at his disposal.**

 **Also, if Grim Reapers are instantly blinded/near-sighted when are reborn after they got done killing themselves as human. Wouldn't it make sense for Death himself to allow or bestow the gift of temporal sight (*cough*they wear glasses) because they are being punished?**

 **Anyway. I hoped you enjoyed. Read, Favorite, Follow, and/or Review. And I hope to continue with your support.**

 **Thank you :D**


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